It's Bad For Ya
by J.M. Bowers
Summary: When the Joker, The Clown Prince of Crime, suffers a mid-life crisis, he is devastated. However, a call from Lex Luthor brings a mission that could be the key to putting him back on top...if he can survive his partnership with Slade, that is!
1. Disclaimer

For those who have read the Teen Titans fan fiction story "The Final Stroke", you will find that this story is in **no** way close to that tale. Still, I do have what I would call a soundtrack for this tale. Hopefully, some of you may know the songs I have on this list, as there was a few who were unaware of the ones I used for "The Final Stroke":

"Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult  
"The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band  
"Crack a Bottle" By Eminem feat. Dr. Dre and 50 Cent  
"You Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring  
"Superman" by Lazlo Bane (The theme song of the series "Scrubs")  
"Disciple" by Slayer  
"El Phantasmo and the Chicken Run Blast-O-Rama" by White Zombie  
"It's The End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" by R.E.M.  
"Insane" by Eminem  
"Stay" by Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories  
"Sinner" by Drowning Pool  
"Spoiling for a Fight" By AC/DC

* * *

It's inevitable for most people. Sooner or later, as we get older, we run the risk of suffering a mid-life crisis. So many things left undone, so many dreams shattered on the ground. But none of us will likely deal with a crisis like what is about to unfold…

Then again, none of us are the Clown Prince of Crime.

What awaits the twilight years of an aging villain as he realizes life is not a bowl of fancy assorted cashews? Will he find the strength to carry on? Will he ever be able to tell Harley Quinn just how much he loves her? Can he ever defeat the Batman? Why am I asking you all these rhetorical questions?

Whatever the answer is, it's guaranteed to have that Joker smile written all over it. Whatever the solution is…It's Bad For Ya.


	2. Start Off With A Bang

It was just another late night on Bus Route 104 for David Williams. That wasn't saying much, to be quite honest.

As the old bus chugged its' way down the streets of Gotham City, the driver had time to reflect on the life choices he made that got him in this position. Maybe if he had finished high school, or gone to college like his dad insisted, or not knocked up that girl at Michael's party…well, no much he could do about that now. Job or no job, child support was still due and the courts would run his ass ragged if he came in even one day late. Reaching the next stop, Williams contemplated just getting off the bus and leaving its' occupants to their own devices. Sighing, he just tapped the brakes and reached for the door controls. Some night, he mused, but not tonight. It would be a decision what would seal his fate.

Like many of the citizens of Gotham, the bus passengers spent their time withdrawn into themselves, not bothering to even make idle conversation with anyone they didn't already know. The rising crime stats and brutal escapades of the local sociopaths had made everyone distrustful of others. For this reason, no one even batted an eye as a man in a trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat boarded the vehicle, his gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a suitcase. As he took a seat near the middle exit of the bus, Williams decided that the silent treatment was enough. Despite regulations, he turned on the bus's radio. Static poured in through the speakers as he tried to tune in a station. Night shift was monotonous already; he didn't need to be lulled to sleep and crash because of the silence. Finally, after a little bit of fiddling with the knobs, he managed to tune in something tolerable. As the bus headed on down towards its' next stop, the song lyric poured in from the tiny speakers:

_**Romeo and Juliet  
Are together in eternity  
(Romeo and Juliet)**_

40,000 men and women everyday  
(Like Romeo and Juliet)  
40,000 men and women everyday  
(Redefine happiness)  
Another 40,000 coming everyday  
(We can be like they are)

Come on baby  
(Don't fear the Reaper)  
Baby take my hand  
(Don't fear the Reaper)  
We'll be able to fly  
(Don't fear the Reaper)  
Baby I'm your man

The lyrics continued as the bus reached its' next stop. Once again, no one really paid attention to the man in the hat as he got up from his seat and exited out the middle door. Just as well, since no one noticed the suitcase that remained on the bus, tucked firmly under the seat. Sometimes, ignorance can be bliss. Other times, it can be _killer…_

* * *

The man in the hat had walked maybe a quarter of a block in the opposite direction that Route 104 was going. As it took off for destinations unknown, the shadowy figure produced a small remote from his pocket.

"Boom Shaka-Laka O'Connell," he muttered to himself with a grin as he pressed the button.

The explosion was deafening. People in the streets screamed as the bus erupted into a fireball of death and carnage. With all the attention on the flaming vehicle, the man quickly walked down and around the corner into a deserted alleyway. Shedding the coat and the hand, he deftly tossed them into a nearby dumpster just outside a restaurant. He wouldn't need them anymore. Time to celebrate…

* * *

His walk was with a purpose. His suit was clean and neatly pressed. A few bloodstain here and there, but not too many as to take away from his presence. His shoes, well-polished, reflected the light from nearby lampposts off the points and highlighted his pale pallor. Strolling down the sidewalk like Vince McMahon, he was the poster child of Arkham Asylum.

He was the Clown Prince of Crime.

He was _the Joker._

A twisted grin spread across his face as he imagined the passengers of the bus screaming and pleading to be freed from the fires. Definitely a good choice of a song for them to go out on. No need to fear the reaper – especially when you get that unexpected visit.

"Oh, Joker, you've outdone yourself again," he said proudly to himself as he continued his late-night stroll. "Oh, you're too kind. No, really! You're a real piece of work! Why thank you! You're not too shabby yourself."

To anyone else, the sight of a man congratulating himself while engaging in a conversation with no one would have been quite a shock. But this was the Joker here. Nothing came as a shock to him anymore. Well, except for the ones they deliver at Arkham in 100,000 volt bites…

As the madman crossed the street, he was feeling pretty much invincible. Then again, he hadn't seen cape or cowl of his only real nemesis that evening. Maybe he was on vacation…

* * *

"Hold it right there, Joker," a deep gruff voice emanated from the darkness, stopping the Joker in his tracks.

"OOOP!" the villain said, cringing at the sound of the voice. "Let me guess…Publisher's Clearinghouse?"

"Very funny, Joker," Batman growled, his frightening visage crouched on top of a car. "I see you've been busy tonight."

"Oh, just taking a ride around Gotham," Joker said, slowly turning around to face the Dark Knight with a smile on his disfigured face. "You know how the government wants us all to be a little more…_green_."

"Sounds like you took some people for a ride," the caped hero said, leaping down from the vehicle and standing tall. "A ride straight to the afterlife."

"Well I hope they enjoyed it," Joker said, laughing in his maniacal chuckle. "Not everyday you get to ride the Highway to Heaven on a bus. Then again, how many of them do you really suspect are going to Heaven, eh Bats?"

'Regardless, you took innocent lives," Batman said, narrowing his eyes.

"Innocent?" Joker said, a mock look of shock on his face. "Haven't you ever heard George Carlin? Being born on this planet already makes you guilty! I'm just catching up on some overdue executions! You could say I'm doing the government a favor!"

"How do you suppose that?" the vigilante asked.

"Well, at least I'm not doing it on the taxpayer's dime!" Joker said, laughing.

"Enough, Joker!" Batman shouted, gritting his teeth. "It ends…tonight!"

Joker frowned grimly. "Fun and games are over, eh, Bats? Well, don't wanna keep you waiting, so…"

With those words, the villain took up a mock boxer's stance. Tossing a few punches into the air, he seemed eager to fight the Batman. Then again, he always did like the thrill of the fight. Like usual, the fight was short and uninteresting. Joker took more punches that he gave and enjoyed the cool breeze that came with him being thrown back across the street. Getting back onto his feet, he sighed.

"Well, no surprise there," he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You got me, Bats. Now, shall we go to jail?" he punctuated the remark by hanging his head and holding his arms out in front of him a'la _Ace Ventura._ He was so used to the routine by now that the next words from the vigilante's mouth came as a true shock – not like the ones in Arkham.

"No," Batman said, slowly crossing the street. His hand went into his utility belt, and returned with a sharpened Batarang. "I told you it ends tonight. I meant _permanently._"

A strange look came over the villain's face. "Wow, that's a little dark for even you, Bats," he said, smiling. "I gotta say that really had the old heart going!"

"I wasn't joking," Batman said, his pace slowing down. It was almost as if he was savoring this very moment. It was certain that he was savoring the look of horror on Joker's face.

"Wait a sec, Bats!" He said, stumbling back. "You can't kill me! That's part of that whole 'superheroes are better than villains' shpeal and whatnot! I mean, do you really wanna disappoint Robin and his little friends by being a murderer?"

"They'll get over it," the vigilante said firmly. "If not…the hell with them."

"You-you can't kill me!" Joker said, smiling as he shook like a tree in a hurricane. "You'd miss me too much!"

"I'll watch reruns," Batman said, raising the Batarang over his head and aiming for the villain's heart. Joker cringed. This was not what he expected. Then again, a guy like him never expects to die at the hands of a man in a funny costume with a conscience…well, _had_ a conscience. Closing his eyes, this was it…

* * *

HONK-HONK!

Joker watched in awe as a giant big rig slammed head-on into Batman. The crash sent the trailer skidding on the asphalt before jackknifing into the air and sliding across the streets for a few more blocks.

For a moment, the villain stood in shock as he looked at the spot where the Bat had been moments before. Now there was just a bloody smear where the Dark Knight once stood. Then, a little chuckle escaped through his lips.

Tossing his hands into the air, the Joker laughed maniacally as he danced in a circle. "Yes, I did it! Batman is DEAD!"

Looking to his right, the villain was surprised as Harley Quinn, his second-in-command and occasional love interest, leaped into his arms out of nowhere.  
"Oh, Mista J! You're a real swell guy!" she said in her thick accent as she pecked him on the cheek.

"Just another day at the office, kiddo," Joker said, grinning. "Finally, this city will be mine!"

It was then that he heard the beeping. Glancing around, the villain tried in vain to locate the source of the sound. By now it was getting louder and louder by the second. Finally, his hand dove into the pocket of his suit jacket. Pulling it back out, he found a large bomb in his hands, the digital timer flashing. Taking a better look, he realized the timer read 7:00.

"Oh dear…" he muttered.


	3. Too Good To Be True

"Good morning! It's 7:00, and you're listening to WVLN, 104.3 FM – music for villainous henchmen and masterminds alike. We have a shout-out this morning for Control Freak from Jinx at the H.I.V.E. which says: 'Stop looking at my ass, you goddamn Freak. There is no chance in hell that I will even go on a date with you, let alone fondle anything downstairs. Get a life, you sad sack of crap and, most of all – LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

Ooo! Well, Mr. Freak, sorry about how that's turning out for ya. Let's get back into the music. There's one you old timers might remember – a classic from the Steve Miller Band, only on 104.3 – Villains' Radio!"

* * *

Joker's eyes opened. The alarm clock flashed in his face as he lay in his bed. Once again, that dream had come. Once again, the alarm had brought him back down to Earth. Still, it was a good sign. He still had the determination – even if the last couple of months hadn't been too kind to the Clown Prince of Crime. Then again, no one can stay on top forever…

Getting up from the prone position, the villain sat on the edge of his bed. Harley was absent. Probably already downstairs making breakfast. She had been a rock for him in the past couple of months as he tried to get back on his feet. Years of insane plans and twisted schemes had left the Joker feeling almost…_normal_. That's when he suspected the worst. He was in worse shape than he ever imagined…

The Joker, the most feared man in Gotham outside of the Bat, was having a mid-life crisis. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. Mid-life crises weren't fun for the average person. Chances were they would not be too enjoyable for the mentally-unstable villain. Thankfully, things hadn't been too bad…except for the singing.

As the Joker got up from his bed, he pulled his t-shirt off. Smelling it, his eyes crossed.

"Time to shower and be ready for the day," he muttered to himself. As he started the shower, he turned up the radio as Steve Miller belted out his classic:

_**You're the cutest thing  
That I ever did see  
I really love your peaches  
Wanna shake your tree.  
a Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time  
Ooo-eee baby, I'll sure show you a good time**_

_**Cause I'm a picker  
I'm a grinner  
I'm a lover  
And I'm a sinner  
I play my music in the sun…**_

By this time the Joker was already in the shower. Once again, the singing began. But this time, it was the villain himself belting out his own twisted version of the song:

_**I'm the Joker**_

_**Gonna smoke ya**_

_**Tie you down and choke ya**_

_**I sure on planning to hurt someone…**_

The shower came to an end. After toweling off, the villain tried his hand at styling his hair. It was a useless gesture, he knew, but it was fun to see his green mane in a different do – right until it sprang back into its normal form. Then came time to brighten the pearly whites. This, of course, must be done with a comically oversized toothbrush. Normally these gags would have been saved for his nemesis, but he hadn't been out and about for nearly six months. Still, his insanity was willing to believe that somewhere in the world someone was watching him. Might as well give them a show…whoever they were…

Stepping back into the room, he opened his closet. Before him hung a multitude of outfits – all the same outfit, to be precise. Still, to please the audience in his mind, he made a big deal out of choosing his suit for the day. This one? Nah. About this? Nope. How about…a tutu? Um…stuff it back in and try again. This one? Yeah, that'll do.

Dressing for the Joker meant looking his best. Granted, it was always for a mug shot, but you might as well do it right the first time, right? Well-polished shoes, white gloves, the legendary purple suit and pants, a nice dress shirt and a corsage that sprays acid. Ah, always a nice touch. Good work, Joker. Ready for the day.

* * *

Harley Quinn sat downstairs in the converted warehouse domicile. Before her sat a plate of what seemed to be burnt pancakes. She never had been too good of a cook. Those skills were the least of her worries as of the moment as the Joker came sliding down the banister of the stairs. Feet hitting the floor, he was in a particularly jaunty mood on this day.

"Hello, Harley," he said cheerfully as he danced past her to the refrigerator.

"Hello, Mista J," the woman said. Compared to her usual method of greeting him, her voice seemed rather deflated than bubbly. The Joker, however, didn't seem to notice it as he reached for the orange juice. Making sure she wasn't looking, he took a drink right out of the container.

"Harley, I had that dream again," he said in a sing-song tone as he put the carton back.

"Really?" the woman said, sighing. "Wish it were real…"

The quiet remark got the Joker's attention. Standing up quickly, he whacked the back of his head on the top of the fridge. Eyes crossed, he finally stood back up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his eyes evening back out.

Looking back at him was the girl who had fallen madly in love with him. Right now, however, she didn't look too thrilled to be with him.

"Mista J, I have been with you for all these years," she began, her eyes being to tear up behind her mask and threatening to smear her face paint. "I have helped you do some crazy things – and I have enjoyed every second of it. But this…I just can't stand this! All day you sit around and watch talk shows! You're not the man that I fell in love with anymore, Mista J! I'm a girl who needs excitement – and violence! You're not giving me any of that, Mista J! I…I just can't take this anymore!"

The Joker stood before her, rather stone-faced as she began crying. "Harley, uh…shouldn't you already have tried to annoy me by now by calling me 'puddin'?"

The woman looked back at him with a mix of anger and impatience. "I'm…I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore…"

"HARLEY!" the villain yelled as the woman ran up the stairs and closed the door to her room. "Come on! I just…"

Sighing, the villain realized he had said the wrong thing. He was getting pretty good at that in his older years. Used to be he always had a snappy comeback. Now…well, it just didn't feel the same.

Looking down at the pate of pancakes, he picked one up and took a bite. His face immediately turned into a mask of disgust. Still couldn't cook worth damn after all these years. Still, he was hungry. After managing to choke down two of the offending cakes, he reached back into the fridge and came up with the surplus-sized bottle of maple syrup. Popping the top, he took a big swing of the sticky liquid. Hell, if those guys in _Super Troopers_ could do it, then he could handle it. Maybe a bit of a sugar high, but that's nothing to write home about.

As the syrup went back into the fridge, the phone over on the counter went off. Probably a telemarketer. Hmm, time for a little fun.

"City Morgue," Joker said as he put the call on speaker. "You kill 'em, we chill 'em. You bash 'em, we stash 'em. No fetus can beat us. Can I take your order?"

"Hello, Joker," the voice came over the line. Despite the tone, the villain recognized it to belong to Lex Luthor, the criminal mastermind that ran LuthorCorp in Metropolis. Why he was calling the Clown Prince of Crime was anyone's guess.

"You know, Lex, it's no fun when you don't play along," Joker said, rather dejected.

"Never been one for fun," the man said. "At least, not _your_ kind of fun."

"Aw, that hurts me in places I'd rather not mention," the villain said, laughing. "Although I could mention 'em if you want…"

"No thanks, Joker," Luthor said. "Listen, I have a bit of a situation that I need your help with."

At this, the Joker stood up, an incredulous look on his face. "ME?" he asked. "Why that's so thoughtful! And I didn't get you anything!"

"Consider it an early Christmas present," the man said. "How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on the way," Joker said. "Just need to get me and Harley packed."

"No offense," Luthor said, quickly, "but I'd prefer if you came alone."

"Right," the villain mused. "It'd be good to get out of the house after all. Besides, Harley's been a real bitch lately. This time apart could do wonders for us!"

"Fine, whatever," the businessman said. "I'll see you soon."

"You know it, Lexxy," Joker said, smiling. "Ta-ta…"

As the phone hung up, the villain danced himself a merry little jig. Lex Luthor needed him – the Joker – for something big. Dashing up the stairs to his room, the spark was back. This could be the one thing he needed to get back on top. Yessir, today might just be a good day after all…


	4. The Funny Montage Bit

Joker pulled out his suitcase. Who knew exactly how much he would need to pack? As he stared into his closet, the answer came to him.

"Meh, I'll just pack all of it," he said to himself.

So he did. Handful after handful of clothing went into the case – far more than should have gone it, by the look of things. As Joker pushed down on the lid, this became pretty apparent. Mustering his strength, the villain backed up, took a running start, and leaped on top of the suitcase's lid – only to be shot up and over the edge of the bed! Collecting his senses, he got on top of the bed and tried jumping directly on top of it. That one worked. Step one complete, he grinned happily.

* * *

Joker sighed as he stepped out of the cab at the airport. The trip had been uneventful – at least, if you don't count the constant starting of the cabbie at him. Eyes looking at him like he was a criminal. Poor dupe. Everyone knew that he was a criminal _mastermind_. Big difference. If you disagree, go on the Internet and complain.

Anyway, the villain marched himself cheerfully into Gotham International Airport – and came to a dead stop as he noticed the increased security force. Hmm, he'd need a cleaver disguise to fool Gotham City's finest. Then again…

The security guard didn't even bat an eyelash as the pilot handed him his papers. Didn't even seem to notice his white pallor or his questionable taste in makeup. Could be the long hours. Could be the little pay. Could be a bit of both. Didn't matter. At least the Joker made his flight.

* * *

The villain sat on the edge of his seat, scarfing down another bag of peanuts while a set of headphones sat on his head. The in-flight movie of the day was a documentary called _Grizzly Man_ – a documentary based on the life of Timothy Treadwell, a famed outdoorsman and so-called 'grizzly whisperer'. The movie had all but wrapped after Treadwell's seemingly delusional tirade about the compassion of the giant beasts when it was revealed that both he and his girlfriend were brutally mauled to death by the very creatures he claimed to know so well. As the evidence was listened to by one of Treadwell's colleagues, the Joker could only muster one response.

Kicking his legs wildly in the air, he let out a delightful squeal.

"THE BEAR ATE HIM!" he cried, laughing maniacally.

…Well, no one could have supposed it would be a mournful response. This was the Joker, after all.

* * *

The Joker exited the terminal with a minimum of fuss. At least until he saw the security forces waiting near the baggage counter. Looks like someone was paying attention in Gotham after all.

Reaching into his pocket, he procured a small remote. Well, time for Plan Make-a-Diversion.

Pressing the button, his suitcase began moving around on its own. Sprouting four metal legs, it leapt off the baggage rounder and took off towards the food court. The police gave chase, giving the villain a chance to slip out the door unnoticed. Minor inconvenience with the whole suitcase thing. Besides, he needed a new wardrobe anyway and hey – he already had the best suit of the bunch on his back. Wonder what they'll think when they see the tutu…

* * *

Walking the streets of Metropolis, the Joker found himself coming up upon a group of teens pulling off break-dance moves. Watching them for a moment, the villain decided it was time to show these fools how to really break it down.

Stepping onto the cardboard, Joker stretched his legs, and broke out into the Running Man. The teens just looked at one another, shaking their heads. Here was another old guy trying to be cool.

The villain realized he was losing the crowd. Time to step it up a notch.

Cheers went out as the lanky villain broke into a tilt-a-whirl followed by a reverse gyro spin, a forehead slide ending with the spinout that left him in the classic prone position, legs crossed and his chin resting on his fist. Hopping back up, Joker bumped fists OG-style with the teens before heading on his way. Yup, he still had it. Onward to LuthorCorp!

* * *

(This montage is brought to you in part by LuthorCorp – fucking you over good for the past twenty years. Montage song – "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by the Offspring from the new album "Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace". Buy it – Luthor demands it!)


	5. Why So Serious? Hey, That's From A Movie

Kitty Kowalski, Lex Luthor's long-suffering secretary, let out a sigh. Her time was occupied more with painting her nails that filing her reports. The paperwork didn't matter, anyway. It was all just a ruse. Lex Luthor was a criminal mastermind with the ability to manipulate just about every single person on the planet…well, maybe not Superman, but the caped do-gooder couldn't save the world from one thing: consumerism. As long as he had the money, the world was at his fingertips. Chances were that he would get that bid for presidency after all…

Kitty's train of thought was broken as the Joker stepped through the doors of LuthorCorp.

"Oh great," she muttered. "Here come the clowns."

"Hey, Kitty!" the villain said, leaning on the receptionist's desk. "Get spayed yet?"

"Very funny," the woman said in a monotonous voice.

"Well, I am a funny guy," Joker said, polishing his fingernails on his suit. "Kinda my thing, if you catch my drift."

"Hope that works for you," Kitty said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be sure to alert the media if you actually do something humorous."

The villain frowned. He was not about to be had by some company clerk – no matter how cute she looked.

"Oh, haven't you heard? I'm a journeyman magician as well," he said, cheerfully as he spread his arms. "Would you like to see a trick?" His eyes narrowed, and his voice deepened. "Maybe I can pull a rabbit out of your ass."

"I'd probably enjoy it too much," Kitty said, nonchalantly. "Hold on - I'll get Lex for ya."

As the receptionist paged the main office, Joker looked down at his hands. This mid-life crisis shit was getting serious. He used to be able to put fear into the entire Gotham City police force. Now he couldn't even intimidate a lousy office drone! If things got any worse, Arkham wouldn't take him back. They'd say he wasn't insane enough…

"URBBBBBBRRR!" the villain said as he shivered at the thought. He wasn't that far gone yet. Still had the spark. Gotta hold on to the spark for dear life…

"Joker, Lex says he'll see you now," Kitty said, interrupting the clown's mental breakdown…or repair…whatever you'd call it. "Top floor, last door at the end of the hallway. Can't miss it…though something tells me you will."

"Yeah, nice talking with you, too," Joker said, grimacing. "You've been about as pleasant as a porcupine giving a prostate exam."

"I try," the woman said, flashing a fake smile. The villain sent one back.

As he headed for the elevator, the singing started again:

_**I've got it bad**_

_**And I hate you…**_

* * *

DING. The elevator doors opened on the top floor. Joker causally meandered out, looking around for anything suspicious. Lex Luthor was a predominant villain, but he had a bad habit of turning his buddies in when the shit hit the fan. This old clown wasn't planning on being next in his long list of patsies. Hmm, _old clown_…Not a term the Joker thought he would refer to himself as. Not a good sign. Then again, an old clown could always learn a few new tricks…

Lex glanced over at the door as the diabolic villain made his way into the office.

"Well, you make good time, Joker," he said, turning around from the front of his desk.

"Well, you know, I –?" the villain stopped mid-sentence as he took a good look at Luthor. Granted, his head was just as shiny as it had always been, but his face looked so…youthful. Not to mention he seemed a good foot and a half shorter that usual. "Whoa…you stumble into a time machine or something there, Lexxy?"

The younger villain grimaced. "Wish I had," he said, thoughtfully. "Been experimenting with stem cell research and longevity. Not quite immortality, but a good start. When the R & D guys got the mixture down pat, silly me decided to offer myself up as a guinea pig. Good news – the mixture works. Bad news – the mixture works _too_ well. I wanted to knock off a few years. Now, I'm back into my puberty."

Joker shook his head, grinning. "Well, Richie Rich, at least you can wow the girls down at Metropolis High…though I would suggest that your R & D boys get cracking on that hair restoration system."

"Very funny, Joker," Luthor said, stepping away from his desk. "Trust me - I've got my boys working on a serum to reverse the effects. Still might be a while, though. No matter. I've got time…and a lot more of it that I originally planned."

Strolling over to a table set up in the center of the room, the businessman beckoned to the Joker. "This is what I called you about," he said, firmly.

With a nonchalant walk, the villain came over and stood by Luthor. Taking a few moments to stare at the drawing in front of him, he cupped his chin in his hand and gave thought.

"Well, Lexxy," he said finally, pointing down at the paper "That looks like a T."

The businessman grimaced. "Thank you, Captain fuckin' Obvious," he growled.

"No need to get testy, Lex," Joker said, holding in hand up in surrender. "Speaking of testy, have they dropped yet?"

Luthor just shook his head as the villain let out his maniacal laugh. "If you're ready to be serious, I'm ready to continue," he said, sternly.

"Oh pooh," Joker frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You always knew how to ruin a good time. Very well…carry on."

The businessman cleared his throat. "I'm sure by now that you are aware of the Justice League's presence here in Metropolis," he began.

"What, all those posters of the S-Man weren't advertisements for the next _Superman _movie?" Joker asked, a mock look of shock on his face. "I gotta sell those tickets…"

"Can I finish?" Luthor said. The villain clammed up for the moment. "As I was saying, the Justice League has been keeping tabs on me and my operations pretty good in recent months. Probably afraid I'm up to no good."

"And are you up to no good?" Joker asked, smirking.

Lex smirked back. "Take one good guess," he said. "Anyway, sources have informed me that the League has moved "The Stockpile" from its' original location deep within the Hall of Justice to a new hiding place."

"What stockpile are we talking about here?" the Joker asked, his hands on his hips.

"'THE Stockpile," Luthor reiterated. "The collection of any and all weaponry, doomsday devices, and alien death machines the League ever confiscated during their time. Needless to say, they probably had an entire wing dedicated to the devices I personally made back at the Hall, but who knows. Either way, whoever could find the location of that inventory of villainy could easily wipe out the competition. Problem is…"

"…You can't find it," Joker finished for him.

"Exactly," Luthor said. "At least, not until recently."

The clown raised an eyebrow. "What ace are you hiding up your sleeve?" he asked.

"It has to deal with this," Luthor said, waving his hand over the paper. Joker took another look.

"It has to deal with a giant T?" he asked, puzzled.

"Precisely," Luthor said. "There are only two like this in the world. This is the blueprint from the Steel City Tower – currently occupied by the superhero force the Teen Titans East and designed by Teen Titan member Cyborg."

"Not too shabby," Joker said, stroking his chin. "But how the hell'd you get your hands on the blueprints?"

"What, you think the Titans just build their towers wherever they damn well please?" Luthor laughed, shaking his head. "Both these buildings needed to be passed by the zoning board, and they needed waivers to offset the construction workers' union. Lot of red tape, to be honest. Thankfully, Robin had a little…persuasion on his side."

The clown nodded. "Good ol' Batsy's still wiping that boy's ass, it seems," he muttered. "Would be admirable…if it wasn't so sad."

"My thoughts exactly," Luthor said. "Anyway, the Steel City Tower was constructed quite some time after the League moved 'The Stockpile', so I doubt it has anything to do with it. The original tower in Jump City, however, was built around the time of the move…"

Joker scratched the top of his head. "So, you're saying the stockpile of destructive weaponry is located somewhere in the tower?" he asked. "By the looks of things, I don't see anywhere it could be hidden."

"Only to the untrained eye," Luthor said. Quickly, he pointed down to a small boxed-off area just next to the elevator shaft. "When Brother Blood infiltrated and hypnotized the Teen Titans East in an effort to re-capture Cyborg, he found this little hide-away spot near the elevator that can only be accessed through the floorboards. Turns out it was a form of a panic room where the team could bunker down in case of an emergency. Of course, it helps if the last person in actually seals the door…"

"What do you expect, Lexxy?" Joker said, shrugging his shoulders "They're kids! They're young, impressionable, panicky…and stupid."

"Agreed," Luthor said. "I'm willing to bet that the new location of 'The Stockpile' is located in a similar hide-away in the original tower!"

"What makes you think that?" the clown asked.

"Simple," the businessman said, smirking. "Do you really think a vigilante hero, a priestess, a shape shifter, an alien princess, and a walking vending machine would have enough money between them to pay for such a technological marvel? Do you really think they could have gotten a bank loan? No – your good ol' chum the Batman gave the financial boost they needed to construct the first tower. With the Bat already an active member of the Justice League, it would have been child's play to move the weaponry in right under their noses."

The Joker pondered this avenue of thought for a moment. "Either that, or his young ward was at least aware of his mentor's plans," he mused. "Hate to say it, but that boy's not nearly as dumb as I'd like to think he is. As for the rest of them….well, they're a bunch of wet matches in a damp cave, per my opinion."

Leaning back on his heels, the villain stretched his arms. "Well, I suppose I can get those kids to tell me where the weapons are," he muttered. "Always was good at motivating people back in the day." His mind was already swimming with images: Electro-shocks running through Raven's body, a _Saw_-esque gauntlet for the boys, him running a tall feather down the delicate and ticklish soles of Starfire –

The Joker snapped back to the present as he considered that last image. What in the hell was he, the Clown Prince of Crime, thinking in using tickle torture to loosen the alien princess's lips? Granted, he had always been one for a good laugh, but that was so not his style. Maybe Harley's, but not his. Too…_nice_. Not enough blood and gore to be satisfying. Mental stability sinking in faster than expected. Outlook for the week seemed rather bleak for him…

"Nice of you to offer running those kids through the wringer, but it's not gonna be that simple," Luthor said, bringing the villain back out of his daze. "See, apparently the Teen Titans went out on a call nearly two days ago…and never returned."

"Hmm, well that's unfortunate," Joker said, stroking his chin. "Hey – how do you know they didn't come back, Lexxy?"

Luthor just shook his head as he looked at the clown. "What, do you think the heroes are the only ones using satellite technology to spy on people?" he asked, incredulously. "Get with the times, Joker – I got more dirt on all these heroes that the National Enquirer wishes they had!"

"So, I guess you probably know what Bats has been up to in my absence," Joker said, his hands on his hips. "Tell me, is he wracked with grief? Overcome with sadness? Slowly dying from the swine flu?"

Luthor shook his head. This wouldn't be fun. "No Joker," he said, running a hand over his bald head, "he's enjoying the playboy billionaire nightlife…as usual. He just gets to play longer now that he doesn't have to cut and run to chase you down."

The remark hit the Joker like a sack of bricks. His old nemesis didn't even seem perturbed that he had basically fallen off the radar a few months back. Maybe he was done with the whole villain thing after all…NO! He was the Joker, goddammit! He wasn't about to be pushed out after all these years by some slowly-forming conscience in his head. "Wow, that's a little harsh," he finally muttered, looking like a sail with no wind in it. "No matter," he added, cheerfully. "I'll be back on top soon enough. So, what I'm willing to guess here, Lexxy, is that you want _me_ to find out what happened to the Titans, find them, get them to spill the beans about that Stockpile, and then bring it all back for you. Sound about right?"

Luthor smirked. "About right," he mused. "Listen, as much as I know you'd enjoy hunting those kids down on your own, I honestly can't let you go alone…especially when I need them alive."

Joker flashed a grin at the businessman. "What, don't you trust me?" he asked.

"About as far as I can throw you," Luthor responded.

The villain nodded, humming to himself. "Guess that wouldn't be too far given your condition," he said quietly. "But don't fret, Lexxy – I can be very flexible. Need the Titans alive? You got it. Just tell how long and whether or not I can't at least have 'fun' with them."

"I honestly don't think they'd survive your 'fun'," Luthor said, frowning. "Besides, I've already hired someone to ride along with you to make sure that the Titans live to see the next sunrise…provided they're not already dead."

As the businessman made his statement, the private elevator leading to LuthorCorp's roof opened its' doors. "…and it seems our guest of honor has arrived," Luthor added, smiling.

As the Joker looked into the elevator, he let out a sigh.

"You can't be serious…" he muttered…


	6. Cool Hand Luke & The Funny Guy

Slade Wilson emerged from the elevator with the air of a trained killer. Regardless of his occupation, being a professional was top priority for this merc. His outfit was neatly pressed, and his mask had been touched up to get rid of the damage that had occurred to it on previous assignments. While Luthor seemed glad to see the legendary mercenary, the Joker looked like a fat kid who just lost his ice cream cone.

"Slade, it's good to see you," Luthor said as he shook the man's hand. Despite the businessman's appearance, Slade didn't even flinch.

"I see your serum worked better than you thought," he said, looking him over.

Luthor shrugged his shoulders. "Can't always be right about everything," he said, sheepishly. "Just most things. So, I see you got my message, Slade."

"Please, Lex," the merc said, holding up his hand. "We're all adults here. Let's drop the façade and just call me what I am."

The businessman nodded. "Okay, if that's what you wish…_Deathstroke._"

"There's a couple things I could call him," Joker muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the villain's snide remarks, the merc resumed his conversation with Luthor. "So, the Titans dropped off the map nearly two days ago and you want us to find them?" he asked.

"Precisely," the businessman said. The Joker looked at the two of them in a state of shock.

"Wait a minute…" he said, pointing a finger at Luthor. "You told him everything over the phone, didn't you?"

"I did," Luthor said, matter-of-factly. "Unlike you, he actually listens without making smartass remarks."

The clown opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything snappy to come back with. 'Shit! I'm losing my edge to Doogie freakin' Howser here!' he thought to himself. 'Well, if that doesn't just beat all…'

As the Joker kicked himself mentally, Luthor and Deathstroke looked at one another.

"He doesn't look too good," the merc quipped.

"What do you expect?" the businessman said. "He's been watching _Jerry Springer_ and _The View _for the past six months."

"_The View_?" Deathstroke said, astonished. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

"No," Luthor said, shaking his head. "That's why I asked you to help me as well. To be honest, the Joker used to be one of the most influential villains in the world. Seeing him in his current state…it's just not right. He needs to get back out there and be the Joker."

"So, you want me to be his chaperone?" the mercenary asked.

"No, I want you to get the mission done," Luthor said. "I can't trust Joker to keep the Titans alive by himself, and he's got a real bad habit of turning on his partners when he senses he'll get more out of it. As much as I want the Joker back terrorizing Gotham City and the Batman, I don't need him terrorizing me. As for that other thing…well, I'm sure you could handle it if it came down to that."

"That I can," Deathstroke said, crossing his arms over his chest. "When do we leave?"

"Now would be a good time," Luthor said. "I have a private jet waiting for you. It'll take you to Jump City International. I trust you have transportation waiting for you there?"

"Gassed and ready," the merc said, jingling a set of keys.

"Good," the businessman said. "Call me when you find The Stockpile. I'll send my personal helix-jet for you. Part helicopter, part jetliner, all worth it."

"Nothing too expensive for Lex Luthor, eh?" Deathstroke asked.

"Damn straight," Luthor said. Turning his head, he looked over at the Joker, who was busy staring back down at the blueprint. "Joker, you and Deathstroke will be running this job together," he added.

"Really?" the villain said as he turned his attention back to the businessman. "And here I thought he was just coming along to see a master at work."

"Try it the other way around," the mercenary said, sternly.

"Well, excuse me, _Mucha Lucha_!" Joker said, folding his arms over his chest. "How do you see out of that mask so well? What, you got Spider-sense or something?"

"Or something," Deathstroke quipped.

The clown sighed. "Oh, you're no fun," he said, rolling his eyes. "This is going to be a boring trip at this rate. What's my incentive, Lexxy?"

Luthor smirked. "How's 10 million sound?" he asked.

That remark got the Joker's attention. "That sounds like _cha-ching, cha-ching, _baby," he said, grinning. "I'd do just about anything for 10 mil…or a Klondike bar…"

"10 million total," Luthor corrected him. "Between you and Deathstroke, that's 5 million a piece. Given your current state, I'd say that's $4,999,999 you don't already have."

"More like $4,999,998.52 to be exact, but who's counting?" Joker said, cheerfully. Still, the reduced pay had grinded his gears a little. No matter. He'd still get to enjoy the fun.

"So, when do we get this shindig started?"

"Now," Luthor said. "My private jet is waiting in the hanger below. It'll take you to Jump City. Good luck…and Joker?"

"Yes?" the villain said as he headed towards the elevator.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Luthor said. The remark held the dark meaning of what he wanted the villain to steer clear of.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joker said, taking a small bow. In his head, however, the sentence continued: "Everything you do bores the living hell out of me."

With that, the mix-matched pair of Deathstroke the Terminator and the Joker began their merry way to Jump City. Hmm…feels like there's some singing coming on…


	7. The Other Funny Montage Bit

(Okay, start the clips. Where's the song? What? No song? Hmm…thought we had a song…Fuck it, just start the montage and we'll drop the music in place as soon as we find it. Not like anyone's reading this thing anyway…)

* * *

Deathstroke and Joker sat on the jetliner as it took off from LuthorCorp's private airfield. The silence between the tow of them was deafening. Finally, probably sue to the fact that there was no music playing in his head, the clown decided to strike up a conversation.

"So, Deathstroke is it?" he said, twiddling his thumbs as the plane reached a cruising altitude. "Interesting name if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," the merc said matter-of-factly as he stared out the window.

"Now, now, no need to be harsh," Joker said, waving a hand. "Just trying to get a little info about you."

Deathstroke turned his head, his one eye seemingly capable of burning a hole right through the villain's soul…if he had one. "I'd say the less you know about me, the better," he said firmly.

"Jeez, okay! I'll shut up!" Joker said, irritated, looking out his own window.

The silence continued on.

"So, do you like, stroke guys off to death or something? 'Cause that'd be a hell of a way to die," Joker said, grinning.

"You know what? _You_ can call me Slade," the mercenary said, shaking his head in disgust as the clown let out his maniacal laugh.

* * *

Slade breathed a sigh of relief as the jet touched down near a private hanger at Jump City International. An hour and a half with Gotham City's head nutcase poking fun at his name had all but worn the merc to threads. As the door opened, he quickly absconded the plane – only to be followed by the Joker as he belted out his own little refrain:

_**Stroke, man, Stroke, man**_

_**You're such a kidder, boy…**_

"SHUT UP!" Slade said, narrowing his eye. "I wasn't exactly a fan of Billy Squirer in the first place, but now I'm thing of making arrangements to pay him a visit thanks to you!"

"I do my best," Joker said, chuckling. "So, where's this ride you promised would be ready? Please tell me we're not taking a cab…"

"No," the merc said, pressing the starter button on his keychain. "A professional killer has more style than that."

"Hey, I'm a killer!" Joker said, proudly as he puffed out his chest.

"I said 'professional' killer, not 'Eddie Izzard wannabe in a bad suit' killer," Slade quipped.

The Joker looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. Then he laughed. "You're a funny motherfucker, you know that?" he said, chortling. "Makes me wish I could take a look inside of you and see what makes you tick…perhaps I'll get that chance…"

"Wouldn't count on it," the mercenary said firmly as his ride arrived.

* * *

The afternoon sun sat high in the sky as Slade's '69 Charger tore up the highway, its' solid black exterior oozing Vin Diesel in _The Fast and the Furious_. Inside, Slade monitored a small touch screen while the Joker covered his ears. The speakers were on a deafening volume, pounding out the thrashing beats that were the Death Punch:

_**You won't break me, no matter how hard you try  
You can't shake me down, I'm fucking bulletproof  
All I've learned, it's like poison  
All I've known, inside my veins  
All I've seen, it's like venom  
All I know, it's all that remains…**_

"God, what is up with you guys and this metal shit?" Joker finally said, angrily. "It's all about death, pain, blood, and hatred. Shit, you already live it! Why listen to someone else sing about it?"

"Because it helps me think," Slade said, calmly.

"About what?" Joker asked. "Genocide? Homicide? Suicide? Buying their next album?"

"It's good for drowning you out," the merc said, cranking the stereo up a little more.

That was the final straw. The Joker was not about to be baptized in metal.

"Dammit all, there's got to be something else on the radio," he shouted, turning the knob.

"What the hell are you doing?" Slade asked, glancing at him. "Don't you know changing the radio station in a trained killer's car could be hazardous to your health?"

"This music's hazardous to your health," Joker said as he kept twisting the knob. Any further and he would be listening to a station just on the other side of the glove compartment. That when it came in. It was music to the villain's ears…_real _music that is.

"You've got to be shitting me," Slade muttered as the Joker sat back and started snapping his fingers to the beat as Michael Stipe's voice came in clear as a bell:

…_**Left of west and coming in a hurry with the furies breathing down your neck  
**__**Team by team reporters baffled, trumped, tethered cropped  
Look at that low plane! Fine, then  
**__**Uh oh, overflow, population, common food, but it'll do  
**__**Save yourself, serve yourself world serves its own needs,  
listen to your heart bleed dummy with the rapture and  
the revered and the right, right  
**__**You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty  
psyched.**_

It's the end of the world as we know it,  
It's the end of the world as we know it,  
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine…

As the lyrics continued, Slade let out a growl. "I can't believe you can listen to this shit," he said, shaking his head.

"Come on now, Slade," the Joker said, grinning. "This song's about death and destruction as well. The only difference is that this is fun to listen to!"

"Just shut up and let me think!" the merc said, his eye on the road.

"Oh, I'm sure you've got a lot to think about," Joker said, grinning. "Multiple murder-for-hires, multiple accounts of assault, five accounts of child abuse…well, technically eight if you count your kids and that Terra girl. Say…weren't you banging her?"

"You left out the part where I made you smash your head on the dashboard," Slade added.

This remark left the villain puzzled. "What?" he asked. "Well, I don't quite remember…"

SCREEECH! The Joker's head bounced off the dash as the merc stomped on the brake. Now in quite a bit of pain, the clown held his forehead, taking in a deep breath as he did so.

"Well…" he mused. "Suppose I walked right into that one…"

Slade grinned beneath his mask as R.E.M. continued playing from the speakers. To be honest, it wasn't too bad after all.

* * *

(Okay, so I guess the montage theme is "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) by R.E.M. Great band, good song. Took you douche bags long enough to find it! No wonder nobody's reading this drivel! Fucktards! Anyway…

As always, this montage brought to you by LuthorCorp. LuthorCorp: Plotting to kill Superman for the past twenty years. Support us! He doesn't really care about you anyway…)


	8. Be Very Quiet We're Hunting Titans

The Charger slowed to a crawl as the two villains pulled into a construction site a few blocks from the local pizza parlor. Looking out the windows, the Joker became puzzled.

"What are we doing here?" he said as the car came to a stop. "I'm not part of the union…are you?"

"No need to worry about the union here," Slade said as he stepped out of the car. "This place's sat half-finished ever since the economy took a dump. Zoning board plans said it was supposed to be a new mall for the brain-dead teens of Jump City."

"Sounds about right," the clown said as he poked his head into a nearly-complete building. "Ugh, look at this place. It's ugly, cumbersome, and overly complicated…it's probably a Starbuck's." Pulling his head back out, he glanced back at the merc. "So, to reiterate from before, what are we doing here again?"

Slade looked over at the Joker. "I was able to hack into the communicator signals given off by the Titans," he said, calmly. "I traced the signals here."

The clown shook his head, grinning as he did so. "Can't keep the teens away," he mused. "Even if the damn thing isn't even finished."

As the Joker chuckled to himself, Slade took a look at his surroundings. His years as a military experiment had turned him into a highly tuned machine, capable of taking in even the minutest details and using them to his advantage. It was this very skill that caused him to notice the thin trails of smile that dripped down from a concrete pipe.

"Well, that's wonderful," he said.

"What? Did ya find something?" Joker said, coming up beside him. "Please tell me it wasn't Jesus…"

"No, but you're gonna wish it was," the mercenary said, eying the slime cautiously.

"Looks like we have Nergials."

"NERGIALS?" Joker exclaimed, a look of shock on his face. "Oh, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition! Not Nergials! Anything but Nergials…" The clown's frantic sounds came to an end as he looked back at Slade. "Say, what are Nergials, anyway?"

The merc shook his head. He should have seen that coming. Oh well – might as well inform the stupid clown.

"Nergials are a violent alien species from the Andromeda galaxy," he said, matter-of-factly. "They send small landing parties across the galaxies in order to sample the flora and fauna of the surrounding regions. Despite that description, they are not cute and cuddly."

"Nothing from outer space usually is," Joker mused. Then, another puzzled look crossed his face. "Say, how the hell do you know about these creatures?"

"I keep myself informed," the merc said. "Not to mention…well, this isn't exactly the first time I tangled with these things."

"Well, that might be handy for you, Buck Rogers, but some of us are content with dealing with local indigenous assholes," the clown said, shaking a finger at Slade. "Though I've got to say these creatures look to have gotten the drop on the Titans."

"That's what I'm afraid of," the mercenary said.

Joker gave him an incredulous look. "You? Afraid?" he asked, smirking. "Of what?"

Slade glared at the clown. He hated him more and more with each passing minute. At this rate, he'd probably just kill him for the hell of it. Until then, however, he'd have to put up with him. "Nergials are a carnivorous species," he stated. "Chances are they lured the Titans here and sprayed them with their slime. It adheres to the body and works its way over the face, rendering them unconscious. They'll still live, since the slime will keep them alive. Nergials don't like necrotic meat."

"Really? How long's that shit last?" Joker asked.

"Five days," the merc said.

"Hmm, need to get me some of that," the villain mused. "Spray it on ol' Batsy, and I'd have Gotham to myself for the workweek!"

"Good luck getting any," Slade cautioned. "They only spray it at their prey. If you see it coming, it's probably too late."

"Relax, Slade," Joker said, waving his hand. "So the Titans get a slime-induced snooze. Five days – big deal!"

"It _is_ a big deal," the merc said firmly. "A single Nergial can consume up to fifty pounds of flesh per day. A group of them divided against the combined weight of the Titans – even discounting Cyborg – and five days is usually three days too late. Needless to say, they're on borrowed time – especially Starfire, since Nergials have a preference for Tamaranean flesh."

"So the girl gets her toes nibbled on, eh?" Joker said, amused. "Probably enjoy it if she wasn't unconscious. Well, let's find these alien munchers and see how much of the Titans are left."

Slade sighed. He wasn't looking forward to this. Granted, he had many run-ins with the Titans in the past, and Robin seemed hell-bent of taking him down, but this was not the way he wanted things to end. In a way, he hoped to find them alive – even if it was only so he could kill them himself in the future. Fighting to the death against a formidable opponent – that's how a warrior should die, not being slowly digested in the belly of an ugly troll-looking monster. Guess he'd find out the truth soon enough…

* * *

"So, what's the plan, Big Man?" Joker asked as Slade opened the trunk of his car.

"Terminated with extreme prejudice," the merc said, looking down. His arsenal sat in front of him. Deftly, he grabbed his twin katanas, two MP-5s, an automatic shotgun, and his custom pistol. Seeing the clown looking at his legendary sidearm, he felt a nice little quip coming on.

"See this?" he said, calmly. "This is _my_ American Express. I never leave home without it."

"Ooo, pretty," the Joker said, eying the cobalt blue steel pistol. "So, which weapon of mass destruction am I gonna get?"

"None," Slade said sternly as he closed the trunk. "Call me fickle, but I really don't trust you standing behind me with a gun."

"Oh come on!" the clown said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Nothing bad would happen…unless of course I was cleaning it…"

"The last time you cleaned a gun four cops, two bystanders, a hot dog vendor and a fat kid on a moped ended up in the morgue," the merc said.

"Yeah, and the worst part was I wasn't even planning on killing anyone that night," Joker said, stroking his chin. "I was off to see _Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle_!"

"Well, that all and good, but no gun for you," Slade said, a dark tone in his voice. "Pick up a piece of rebar or something and try to stay out of my line of fire. If you don't, I don't plan on stopping."

Something in the mercenary's voice told the clown that he was deathly serious about that remark. "Good advice to know," he said, nodding his head. "So, headfirst into the unknown?"

"Sounds like a plan," Slade said, checking the safeties on the weapons. "Just try not to get yourself killed. I don't plan on dragging your corpse back out of their lair."

"Again, good advice to know," the Joker said, picking up a lead pipe from the ground. "Ugh, it's all dusty. My gloves are getting dirty…"

'What a bitch', the mercenary thought to himself. He'd worked with better partners before. Then again, there had been a few that were worse. Thankfully, most of them were dead now. Hmm, wouldn't take much to get rid of this one as well…

Shaking the notion from his head, he focused on the task at hand. Taking on an unknown number of violent aliens in their own lair – just another day in the life of Deathstroke the Terminator. Ducking his head, the merc took the first step into Hell.


End file.
